


what the formalities can't fix

by savi0urdr3amer



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Angry Sex, Clothed Sex, Explicit Consent, F/F, Face-Sitting, Fingerfucking, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex, adora and catra are around 18-20, at least that’s kind of how i interpreted their ages so they’re both adults in this fic!!, but pls do correct me if I’m wrong and they have canon ages, catradora, characters are 18+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 03:38:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savi0urdr3amer/pseuds/savi0urdr3amer
Summary: “What’s wrong?” Catra purrs, and Adora is all too aware that she has her right where she wants her. She moves in closer, pressing Adora back-first against the jagged wall, and Adora finally exhales shakily. “Cat… got your tongue?” She teases, reaching up to trace her jawline lightly with one claw, painfully slow, and something close to lust shines in her eyes as she follows the trail of Adora’s neck down to her collarbones.“Why don’t you go bother someone else?” Adora hardly manages, stiffening. “Since you clearly have such a busy schedule now,captain.”Catra snorts and her brows climb to her hairline in almost convincingly feigned surprise. Her laugh is dry.“My, my, it looks like the princess has learned how to bite. You know, I’m impressed. For a second I thought you really meant that.”





	what the formalities can't fix

“A rose has thorns, a cat has claws; certainly both are worth the risk.” -Anonymous proverb

-

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Is all Adora can manage before Catra shows up behind her. Over the years she’s gotten good at spotting her, looking for the subtleties in the shadows where her shape didn’t quite perfectly merge with the darkness, but either she’s gotten rusty or Catra has gotten better because she doesn’t expect it. Not this time.

“Now you’re following me? You’re _awful_ ,” Adora hisses, a low mutter under her breath as Catra sways around her like the shrewd hunter her past turned her into. She’s dexterous. Calculated. Knows exactly what she’s doing and that she’s cornered Adora like a tiny, meek mouse and certainly not a princess, not a fighter, not the great She-Ra.

She’s supposed to be getting some fresh air to clear her head... in retrospect it makes sense that Catra would show up now for an impromptu visit while her guard was lowered and she was alone, but it makes the thought no less infuriating. It’s just like her. God dammit.

Catra smirks, her features as feline-like and smug as ever. Adora tries not to hold her breath she watches Catra’s lips curl into that damn seductive grin she knows so well, but her breathing hitches when a hint of Catra’s fangs gleam sharp and white in the low light. It’s just past sunset outside now, the sky painted with fainted hues of purples and blues and pinks like Bright Moon, ethereal and airy and sometimes too beautiful to be true for someone who came from something as dark and dystopian as the Fright Zone.

“Please,” Catra says as she rolls her eyes, dragging out every syllable until it throbs. Her voice is like scissors through silk: deadly, swift, and yet somehow painfully, deliberately punctuated. “I’ve got better places to be. People to see. This whole meeting is nothing but chance, _princess._ ”

The last word is laced with a venom that makes Adora visibly wince. It’s an insult that sinks into her skin like barbs and teeth and acid, and it reeks of something far more hostile: _traitor_. Adora swallows as it registers, seeps into her, and it leaves her toppling between guilt and anger, grief and hostility.

“What’s wrong?” Catra purrs, and Adora is all too aware that she has her right where she wants her. She moves in closer, pressing Adora back-first against the jagged wall, and Adora finally exhales shakily. “Cat… got your tongue?” She teases, reaching up to trace her jawline lightly with one claw, painfully slow, and something close to lust shines in her eyes as she follows the trail of Adora’s neck down to her collarbones.

“Why don’t you go bother someone else?” Adora hardly manages, stiffening. “Since you clearly have such a busy schedule now, _captain_.”

Catra snorts and her brows climb to her hairline in almost convincingly feigned surprise. Her laugh is dry.

“My, my, it looks like the princess has learned how to bite. You know, I’m impressed. For a second I thought you really meant that.” Catra tilts her head, her ears twitching slightly, and she presses her knee between Adora’s legs.

“Maybe I did,” Adora says, her voice low and strained as she tries to hold back the hint of a moan lurking in the back of her throat.

“Please,” Catra drawls again, just as playfully. “You’ve always been a piss-poor liar. You still want me, don’t you, Adora?”

Adora takes in another shaky breath and looks away, but Catra’s intense gaze still burns like a laser. Her eyes gleam, gold and cyan, filled with a mischievous look that makes Adora want to both scream and kiss her until they’re both breathless and shaky, caught in an unsure intersection where friends and enemies and lovers meet.

“So what if I do?” Adora says.

“Then you’d prove what I’ve been saying all along: that you’re weak,” Catra’s gaze flicks down to the subtle swell of Adora’s breasts beneath her jacket, and she traces the lining of it with her finger, her claw dragging against the velvet. “That in the dead of night, I’m the one you think of. Not your new special friends or your shiny magical sword… Just little. Old. Me.”

All it takes is a blink and Catra pounces, strikes like a predator at a cornered mouse, and the suddenness of it all knocks the breath out of Adora’s chest.

There’s no grace or tenderness or love in Catra’s touches this time. It’s not like either of them remember; they don’t drag out the passion, trace maps on each other’s skin with the tips of their fingers and hold each other close, closer than they’ve ever held anyone, and Adora doesn’t feel like Catra is the only thing she has keeping her alive anymore. In a way she feels empty, phantasmal, like there’s a wall built between them even as their bodies get closer and seek each other out, but by the time Catra is on her and their lips meet she can’t bring herself to think twice about it. Not when she’s this heated and all she longs for is the familiar feeling of Catra’s hands on her, her retracted nails blunt on her skin.

“Y’know, the bed’s pretty empty without you,” Catra murmurs between hungry kisses, nipping at Adora’s bottom lip with her teeth. Adora would yelp if she wasn’t so used to the feeling and god, she's admittedly missed the taste of copper in her mouth, and she can do little more than weakly shiver as Catra’s voice dips into a low, husky octave that makes her thrill.

“Yeah,” Is one of the few things Adora can bring herself to say. She starts to utter an apology when Catra closes the space between their lips again, deepening the kiss until Adora crumbles and melts, hardly more than a shuddering mess as Catra seeks out all the spots that make her weak with the callouses on her palms.

Adora reaches for Catra’s shirt, tries to pry her fingers into the tears to get easier access to the molten heat of her skin, but she hardly gets past brushing over her Horde pin before Catra swats her hands away.

“Ah-ah,” Catra jests, squeezing her wrists. “Can I have my fun first?”

“Fine,” Adora mutters, wanting to sigh. That’s Catra for her: impatient, a shrewd show-off determined to succeed and be nothing but the _best_ , better than she's ever been.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not that mean. I’ll give you what you want,” Catra’s words feel like a sword twisted into her gut and Adora can’t quite decide if she likes the almost pitying tone in her voice or not.

On one hand she hates being patronized, despises being looked down on more than _anything_ , but Catra has always had a proclivity for pressing people’s buttons and her jibes were never meant to be taken too seriously... they were like brushing against a thorn, the pain short-lived and superficial, hardly more than a sting to hide the heaviness lurking beneath her debonair, flippant personality.

“Catra,” Adora gasps, pleads, all too aware of the way she gets goosebumps as Catra lets go of her wrists and starts to pop open the buttons on her jacket. Catra smirks against her lips and it’s infuriating how sexy it is, and she’s more than proud of herself as her hands slide easily under her shirt. It’s the same one she wore the day she defected, Horde insignia on the back and all. She almost feels silly still wearing it, but for some reason she can’t bring herself to let go of it.

“Oh, you’re not wearing a bra tonight? That’s bold,” Catra beams with anticipation when she sees Adora’s nipples already peeking through her shirt, standing stiff and sensitive against the hem. She brushes over them once, twice, and Adora groans at the feeling, tiny bursts of pleasure shooting from her belly right down between her legs. Catra leans in for another kiss and it’s open-mouthed and sloppy this time, full of nothing but tongues and teeth and a festering, undignified need.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Adora breathes, her words quickly dissolving into gasps and moans as Catra uses her own weight to pin her against the wall and rubble so she can sink her teeth into her neck, nibbling right at her pulse. The roughness of her tongue makes her skin prickle and she pulls Catra in closer, so close it would be awkward and uncomfortable if they hadn’t spent years mastering the way their bodies moved together, and she buries one freed hand into Catra’s messy mane of hair to keep herself steady.

Catra easily undoes the fly of her khakis and goes right for the prize, dipping her fingers between Adora’s thighs, and her grin grows even more conceited when she finds Adora slick and wanting, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal as Catra pinches a taut nipple with her free hand. Adora jerks, jolts, at the feeling, a little hoarse and already _way_ too close to the edge to be teased like this, and by the third pinch it’s clear Catra is drinking in this like fine wine. Reveling in it.

“Aw, you really can’t resist me. That’s cute,” Catra teases, and Adora isn’t sure if the sympathy in her voice is genuine or patronizing. Infuriatingly enough, it makes her grind her hips into Catra’s palm, desperate for the friction, caught in a frenzy of inadvertent bad luck and actually _liking_ Catra talking to her like this, holier-than-thou and vainglorious and-

She almost says it. _Better than her._

But that’s not what comes out.

“Fuck you,” Adora growls, a bit more than halfheartedly. Her words quickly dissolve into a strained moan as one of Catra’s fingers finds her clit and draws a halo on it with a touch that must be no lighter than a feather, skilled and clever and exactly like the way she moves in and out of the battlefield.

“Easy now. We’ll get to that part soon enough,” Catra hums, her eyes narrowing into something devious and brutal and ravenous. “For now, I plan on reminding you of _just_ what you left behind.”

_After all, every hero has to have a sidekick, right?_

Catra doesn’t give any warning when she presses a finger into her and almost immediately follows it with another. Adora’s back digs into the rubble as Catra adjusts, uses nothing but her strength to practically hold her up and prop her on a dangerously narrow and _sharp_ section of the wall, but it doesn’t matter that the back of her arms sting or that there’s more than likely a tear in her top, because all she can focus on is _Catra_. She’s been rough with her before and she can’t begin to count the amount of times she’s felt Catra coaxing pleasure out of her and fucking her, but it’s never felt quite so… enthralling.

It feels forbidden. Wrong. Not only communicating with an enemy but _screwing_ her-

Even thinking of Catra as her enemy leaves a bitter, sour taste in Adora’s mouth that even kissing her doesn’t shake.

“What’s wrong, princess? Having second thoughts?” Catra suddenly stops the curling of her fingers, leaving Adora hot and wanting, her nerves fuzzy, stray pieces of blonde hair sticking to the sweat on her temples. She was already so fucking _close_ -

“Don’t you _dare_ stop,” She growls, taking advantage of the brief reminder that Catra isn’t restraining her wrists anymore, and with her other hand she tugs on Catra’s shirt so hard she swears she hears it rip. (Not that anyone would care or even notice, but the thought still lingers for a second. Did she really...?)

With a giggle Catra dives back in, picks back up the same relentless tempo, and it feels like a firecracker, hitting all the right places that make Adora squirm and whimper and pant into the crook of her neck, taking in the scent of Catra’s wiry, dense locks, and she has to hold back something close to a scream as she takes Catra’s fingers to the knuckle and feels her palm cupping her groin, grinding against her clit. Catra starvingly ruts against her, nothing but growls and determination as her own arousal bleeds into her, and when she curves her fingers, brings them in towards her belly, Adora swears she sees stars in her eyes, white-hot and bright like meteors and stardust.

“Holy shit, Catra, _please_ ,” Adora gasps, begs, the wet heat of her cunt clenching fervently around Catra’s slim fingers, and Catra obliges, fucking her so hard and fast her head spins and her bones liquify.

Adora’s never come this hard before. At least she doesn’t think she has.

What she can only think of as a supernova bursts in her, breaks and opens like a dam, and every inch of her veins light up as the release washes over her. She does more than drink in it, _drowns_ in it as she gasps out the broken syllables of Catra’s name and feels her head spinning. The first thing Adora registers as she starts to come back down is the tickle of Catra’s pointed ear against her forehead. The second is the sweat that makes her clothes cling to her body. The third is Catra’s fingers leaving her, and she squirms, overstimulated, as Catra leaves behind a slick mess between her legs.

The fourth is her voice.

“Adora, I need you to eat-” Catra brings in her tacky hand to cup Adora’s face, the other clawing a soft but searing line down her chest, and the rest of her words disappear into Adora’s mouth as she kisses her again. She feels more exposed now, Adora thinks. Vulnerable. Pleading.

Catra reaches for Adora’s other hand, pulls it off of her shirt and towards the crisscross of her belt, breath hot and dense against her skin. She fumbles as she helps Adora unclasp it, not even bothering to unloop it as she hurriedly pulls her pants to her knees, underwear and all, revealing a thick mound of hair already glinting and dense. The way they’re both propped against the wall is crowded and awkward and beyond uncomfortable, but it doesn't stop Adora from letting the back of her head hit the wall as Catra pushes her down. She plants her elbows into the grit so Catra can situate herself, which makes her realize she could almost slump over and fall if it weren’t for Catra’s weight above her, but that fear quickly dissipates as Catra settles on top of her and spreads her legs apart.

Adora’s hands find Catra’s hips as she lowers herself onto her face, and Catra’s nose wrinkles as she looks down at her, brows knitted, fangs peeking through her pursed lips.

“Let’s see if you still remember how to do this,” She breathes, and Adora’s eyes narrow. Of course she does, she thinks. It hasn’t been that long since they last did this.

Adora starts with a pliant, broad stroke of her tongue and Catra shudders as she parts her, the familiar tang of her arousal thick in the air. Catra is eager, jerking her hips with a frustrated hiss as Adora sifts through the hair between her legs and searches for her clit. It takes a few swipes- shallow ones in sequences of one, two, three, until Catra quivers above her and Adora knows she’s found exactly what she wants. She presses the flat of her tongue to Catra’s clit before taking it between her lips and _sucking_ , and that’s when Catra’s voice goes hoarse and her eyes grow wide. She responds with a brutal roll of her hips, digging Adora’s hair and scalp into rocks and rubble and who knows what else, and Adora whimpers pathetically from both the pain and the arousal as Catra rides her face.

“Who fucking knew?” Catra laughs, chest heaving. The vainglorious look in her eyes quickly shifts to primal need. “It looks like you’re still capable after all.”

Her words make Adora suck on her clit harder, and above her Catra trembles and mewls, that shit-faced, sidewinding grin of hers turning into an open-mouthed, desperate little moan that Adora would almost call a scowl if she didn’t know Catra so well. Catra’s fingers weave into her hair, her claws snapping the tie holding her ponytail in place, leaving Adora’s blonde hair spilling around her face as Catra comes and her entire body spasms. Adora groans and flinches as Catra grabs handfuls of her hair, pulling at her head and grinding her cunt into her face so hard Adora is sticky up to her nose, release trickling down the edges of her lips.

Catra’s breaths grow ragged and grating as Adora coaxes another orgasm out of her, smaller but no kinder in intensity, and something close to a yowl claws itself out of her throat as she comes a second time. Adora only stops when Catra’s breathing finally evens out and she goes slack above her, her eyelids still fluttering. Adora licks her lips as Catra rises to her feet and bends down to pull her pants up, and she fails to conceal a sneer when she sees that Catra’s thighs are still quivering.

Catra is halfway through pulling her pants back up to her waist when they make eye contact.

“What?” She says, surprisingly nonchalant. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I don’t like you.”

“Mm-hmm. Yeah. Sure,” Adora says a bit vainly.

“Listen. Just because you give damn good oral doesn’t mean we’re on… talking terms. You hear me?” Catra fixes her belt and her ears sink an inch or two lower as she rubs the back of her neck. “Go… find another hair tie or something.” She swats at the air.

Oh. Right. She’ll definitely be needing another one of those. And hopefully not another… Adora reaches for her sleeves to check for tears and then searches the back of her shirt. Shit. She definitely needs another shirt.

“I blame you,” She says icily, showing her the lacerations in the fabric with a frown. Catra isn’t fazed in the slightest; instead she _laughs_.

“Oh, Adora. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself for that,” She drawls, moving closer again. Her breath prickles against Adora’s ear. “And if I were you, I’d be more worried about something else.” She taps on her neck with the tip of one claw and Adora suddenly realizes what she’s talking about. She can feel the blush spreading to her ears… She didn’t think about that, and those marks will more than certainly bruise.

Catra places a quick, teasing peck on her lips and wiggles her eyebrows.

“You might want to touch up on your lying skills, too. What are you gonna tell those friends of yours?” She reaches up to tauntingly twirl a lock of Adora’s hair around her finger. “Miss clumsy legendary hero tripped and fell into a rosebush?”

Hilarious.

“No, I’ll tell them the truth,” Adora snaps back, deadpan. “I’ll tell them I was attacked by a _cat_.”

“You better step up your game then. Why are you always so slow?” Catra steps back and stands on the balls of her feet, jumping into a tree above them. Her silhouette fades as she perches herself on a branch and the leaves quiet, and only her eyes are visible.

“Later, princess.”

Adora doesn’t have time to say anything else before she’s gone.

 _God,_ she thinks as she rolls her eyes. _Why does it always have to be a cat?_

**Author's Note:**

> me? in catradora hell? more likely than you think!!! lmao i'm so sorry


End file.
